


Laundry Crisis

by LadyDrace



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, College Student Stiles, Communication, Domestic, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Good Alpha Derek Hale, Happy Ending, Laundry, Light Angst, M/M, Mentioned Kate Argent, POV Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 05:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14254320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: Derek does Stiles' laundry. Just to be nice.The emotional crisis is a surprise.





	Laundry Crisis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flightyvandal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightyvandal/gifts).



> This is a birthday present for the amazing Jess. <3 I hope you have an amazing birthday!
> 
> Fic is unbetaed but thoroughly edited. 

It's an innocent suggestion, it really is. Derek has no ulterior motive at all. He only does it because Stiles looks dead on his feet, and, frankly, he _smells_. He needs a shower, a meal and sleep, in that order. But he's got three exams in two days, and he looks on the brink of tears when Derek asks how he's doing. So clearly the pressure is getting to him.

 

It's honestly nothing more than a desire to help get that frantic and exhausted look off Stiles' face that makes Derek take charge. He gets his gym bag out of the car, shoves his perfectly clean gym clothes into Stiles' hands, and damn near kicks him into the shower. There's some protesting, but it's weak, and Derek doesn't even need super human senses to hear the pathetically grateful groan Stiles lets out as soon as the hot water hits him.

 

While Stiles is more than likely falling asleep in the shower, Derek orders a ton of food, far more than either of them can eat, making sure to get some things that'll keep for a day or two as well. He then gathers up all the dirty laundry he can find, which turns out to be more or less Stiles' entire wardrobe, and by the time he's stuffed it all in his trunk the food is being delivered. It only takes two shouts of his name to get Stiles out of the bathroom, so at least he didn't drown in there, and he doesn't even argue when Derek pushes him down to sit on his bed and plops a carton of noodles into his hands. With a _fork_ , because Derek doesn't trust Stiles' fine motor skills with chopsticks right now.

 

The fact that he meekly lets Derek care for him would otherwise be quite worrying, but Derek remembers college too. His own experience was marred by grief, but he still remembers the exhaustion and stress that no amount of super healing could fix. Stiles is clearly too stressed to do basic self-maintenance right now, and Derek isn't about to just stand by and watch. Not for any of his pack, but especially not for Stiles. Who is barely even done eating when he simply falls back on his bed and drops off to sleep, just like that. Derek shakes his head fondly, and then manhandles him around until he can free a blanket to put over him.

 

If there's also a brief stroke of his hair in the process, then no one can prove a thing.

 

Making sure to set an alarm with plenty of time for a cramming session before the next exam, Derek packs away the food, leaves a note with stern instructions to hydrate and not be an idiot, and then drives the three hours back home to do laundry.

 

It's all completely innocent, and while Derek's senses do appreciate pure body scents rather than artificial ones even he has his limit, and Stiles' clothes met that limit over a week ago. Even the unflappable Boyd has to make a face when he walks in on Derek sorting the mountain into darks and whites.

 

So it's not pleasant.

 

Derek is happy to do it, though. He's settled into the alpha role, finally, and the part of it he enjoys the most isn't the posturing or the power or the status. No, what he enjoys more than anything is that all the pack members need him, and that caring for them isn't just appreciated but _expected_. Yeah, Derek loves that part. So he's more than happy to do some laundry, and also say goodbye to those gym clothes, because they'll definitely disappear into Stiles' wardrobe, just like every single t-shirt he's ever borrowed from Derek. Usually without asking. But it's fine, and Derek doesn't even bother to sort out the three or four shirts of his that he finds in the laundry. If Stiles likes them so much Derek can just buy new ones.

 

And maybe he doesn't hate the thought of Stiles wearing his clothes, either. Maybe.

 

All delusion comes to an abrupt end, though, when Derek tips the last basket of clean, dry clothes onto his bed. His plan was to fold them. Because they're easier to fit into the bags like that. Shut up, it makes perfect sense, okay? But somehow, by some moronic coincidence, he didn't stop to think about what all of Stiles' clothes on his bed would do to the smell in his bedroom.

 

Even when clean all the clothes are saturated with Stiles' scent. Spread over Derek mattress like this, the scents mix, and it's almost like it's not fabrics tangling but _he and Stiles_ instead.

 

It hits Derek like a punch to the face as he sits down on the bed, the air escaping the mattress a heady mix of _them_ , and before he knows it he's falling back onto the pile, dazed and breathing slow and deep.

 

God, he's _fucked._ Every breath through his nose is enough to make him moan with how good and _right_ it smells, and he's torn between arousal and mushy happiness. Right up until the moment he remembers that he and Stiles _aren't together_.

 

He sits up like a shot and scrabbles away from the bed, putting as much distance between him and the tempting pile as he can. Every trace of happy feelings in his body are gone in a flash, and he has to just breathe through his mouth for a minute while wrestling down the budding panic.

 

He's not _her_ , he wouldn't... he _wouldn't_. It's fine.

 

The betas can tell he's rattled, and do a lot of casual touching when they get home to try and center him, but thankfully no one asks.

 

He's not a complete idiot. He knows that he and Stiles don't exactly fit the mold of casual pack members. For one thing, they've saved each others lives far too many times now to be casual _anything_. But, also, Derek has been aware for at least a couple of years now that he's soft for Stiles in ways he's always been wary of looking at too closely.

 

Not that he wouldn't bully every single pack member into taking care of themselves with rude fondness, because he _would_ , but he can't seem to restrain himself at all with Stiles, the laundry incident being the most recent example. Hell, when Stiles told him over the phone that he was tired and stressed Derek canceled all his plans for the day and simply drove to Stiles' dorm. And Stiles hadn't even looked surprised to see him, so it's already far too common an occurrence for Derek to explain it away with mere protective alpha instinct.

 

No, he's invested in Stiles' welfare to a point that it sometimes robs him of common sense. And clearly it's going to go too far if he doesn't deal with it somehow. And soon.

 

“ _I love you, man, thank you so much_ ,” Stiles texts later in the day when he's awake again and finds the leftover food, and Derek clutches the phone in his sweaty hand, listening to his own helplessly pounding heart.

 

_Goddammit._

 

He folds the laundry, slowly and cautiously, keeping a firm handle on himself to not slip again, but once it's all folded and packed into bags Derek allows himself to just revel in the scent left on his bed. He sleeps amazingly well that night, and Erica even comments in the morning on how he looks like he had a _good_ dream. Derek doesn't remember, but he wouldn't be surprised. Falling asleep with Stiles' scent in his nose clearly does wonders for his state of mind.

 

Maybe that's also what helps him come to terms with what his next step has to be. He has to tell Stiles. How he feels. God fucking _dammit_.

 

He'd sort of hoped he'd never have to, but that was definitely a pipe dream, because all evidence points to it being a condition he's not getting over anytime soon. It's as if Stiles' obsessive nature is rubbing off on him. Or, more likely, everything in Derek's life so far has been one long lesson of never letting go of anything you care about ever. Therapy has taught him a lot about himself, if not exactly helped change much.

 

He still gets angry a lot. He has nightmares, more often than not he snarks rather than offer a straightforward answer to questions, and his first instinct isn't necessarily to be nice to people. Not anymore. And it might never be that again. He lost so much of himself to Kate, and he still gets bitter and upset at random times over everything she took from him, about how so much of it will be lost forever.

 

Bottom line, Derek comes with a boat load of issues, and while everything he knows about Stiles tells him odds are it wouldn't be a deterrent exactly, it's still a scary thought putting it out there. Besides, Stiles has changed somewhat since going to college. It was good for him, and exactly what Derek wanted. But it does mean that Derek isn't entirely sure where they stand anymore. Friends, definitely. Better friends than they were in the past. But Stiles has also openly dated several people, and it's been at least a year since he's thrown a casual lustful comment Derek's way, so he could very well have missed his window.

 

It would be a supreme case of irony.

 

But he tries not to think too hard about that part of it, and focuses on trying to look at the positive side. While Stiles has never been the most tactful person he's had enough heartbreak himself that Derek can feel reasonably sure that he'll at the very least let him down gently. So even if it doesn't have the most ideal outcome it'll probably only be awkward for a while, and Derek will go back to repressing it. Business as usual.

 

He thinks everything through as he packs the laundry into the car, hands moving mechanically while his mind is racing. He's not good at things like these, he's all too aware, and he'd really rather adopt Stiles' tried and tested method of ignoring the problem until it goes away. But it hasn't gone away for several years now, so odds of that happening aren't great. In fact, all evidence points to it only getting worse, so there's nothing for it.

 

Stiles should be sitting his last exam this afternoon, and Derek mulls everything over on the three hour drive back to Stiles' dorm, while also trying his best to mentally project clarity and passing grade vibes in Stiles' general direction. Because Stiles asked him to do that, and Derek is completely unable to refuse anything Stiles asks him so sincerely. Especially when it's followed up by a tight hug and a muttered _thank you_ against his shoulder.

 

Yeah, Derek is a _goner_.

 

Whatever he managed to project must have worked, because when he knocks on Stiles' door it's ripped open in seconds, and he has to drop the laundry bags completely, in order to catch Stiles as he flings himself into Derek's arms.

 

“It went really well, oh my god?! I thought I'd be passing out or maybe crying for this last one, I dunno, but it was a breeze, Derek!” he rambles, his face one big, beaming smile as he clutches Derek's cheeks like he's a particularly adorable hamster. “And it's all thanks to _you!_ I'm not even gonna front, you saved my life, oh my _god_ , thank you so much for being a dictator!”

 

“Nice to know someone appreciates my special brand of gentle nurturing,” Derek jokes weakly, a little overwhelmed by Stiles' closeness.

 

“I _super_ appreciate your _everything_ , man,” Stiles says, dancing backwards into his room, uncaring of the eye-roll of his roommate. “Suck it, Phillip, I am _done!_ Double majored and _not dead!_ I made it, baby!” he crows, and Phillip slaps his book closed.

 

“You know what, I'm just gonna go, because this whole gleeful dance routine is tarnishing my emo rep,” he says, voice biting, but still sporting a smile. He and Stiles were clearly a great roommate match, because they're exactly the same brand of jokingly cynical most of the time, and Stiles will definitely do some gross sobbing when Phillip's last exams are done and their time together is officially done.

 

“You just can't stand to see people happy, because you're dead insiiiide,” Stiles sing-songs, and Phillip snorts as he shuts the door behind him.

 

Derek sets the bags of clothes down on Stiles' bed, and then follows them, not knowing what to do with himself as Stiles pretty much climbs the walls, detailing every single part of his exams and how he totally aced them all. Derek is incredibly pleased for him, and he'd be more than happy to join in the dancing around, if his stomach wasn't a sour mess of nerves right now.

 

“-and I kept thinking I'd run out of time, but I figured I might as well keep expanding on it until the timer dinged, right, but by the time I couldn't think of anything more to add there were still like ten minutes left! So I had plenty of time to make a really solid conclusion and everything!” Stiles says, hands flying around in excited gestures, and making Derek smile despite the knots in his stomach.

 

“That's great, Stiles. I'm glad to hear it went well.”

 

“It went more than well, Derek! I _nailed_ it!”

 

Derek manages a slightly bigger smile, but it's not enough, and Stiles' face falls when he finally notices Derek's mood. “Wait, why are you looking like your dog died? Did someone get hurt? Are you trying to break it to me gently?”

 

“No! No, nothing like that, everyone's fine,” Derek assures, waiting for Stiles to deflate again before continuing. “It's just... we need to talk. It's nothing bad! At least I don't think it is?” he says, not sure how it might end up going. He's never quite been able to read Stiles. Understand him, definitely. Decipher his intentions by watching his behaviors? Not even close.

 

“Okay?” Stiles says slowly, sitting down in his desk chair, and directing his full attention at Derek. “So. What's up?”

 

For a moment Derek just sits there, lost on how to even start. “It's about your laundry,” he ends up blurting out, because he might as well start with the most recent ridiculousness.

 

“O...kay?”

 

Derek immediately regrets taking this route, because how does he even begin to explain that Stiles' laundry gave him a crisis, which is only really one in a long line of such?

 

“Actually, you know what, forget it,” Derek says, rubbing his face with frustration. Stiles stares at him, a smile tugging at his cheek, and Derek should really be encouraged by that, but right now he's too on edge.

 

“I feel like I should be taking this opportunity to mock you, but I can't make myself do it, because this is adorable,” Stiles says, a grin quirking up on his face.

 

“Oh, shut up.” This type of banter is familiar territory for them, and it actually makes Derek feel a little more comfortable. “I'm trying to tell you something emotional here, stop being a prick.”

 

“Right, right, sorry.”

 

There's probably nothing for it. Derek will just have to come out and say it, and he doesn't even realize he's shaking out his hands and breathing like he does before a training session with the betas, until Stiles backs away an inch in his chair. “Okay, now I'm worried.”

 

“No, it's-. _Ugh_.” If Derek was sitting near any flat, hard surface he would have banged his head against it, because this is going _superb_. “I'm sorry, I'm just... nervous.”

 

“And that's what's freaking me out, dude,” Stiles says, concern etched onto his face. “You don't _get_ nervous.”

 

That makes Derek burst out in a hard laugh, because holy shit, Stiles could barely be more wrong.

 

“No, no, I mean-” Stiles argues, hands up in a placating gesture. “-I mean you don't get _nervous_. Scared, sure. Like, I've seen you fucking terrified, but you don't get like... performance anxiety.”

 

That's actually a good point, and Derek is inclined to agree with him. Usually everything Derek does carries the threat of life and death, so fear is the logical response. But while this _can_ end up being emotionally devastating it doesn't feel like there's any real risk of losing anything major. Stiles will still be his friend if he turns Derek down, so the stakes are lower. He might actually _be_ nervous for once. But, of course, Stiles hasn't seen Derek in any situation like this before. Hell, it's been years since _Derek_ has.

 

“Well. I am,” he ends up saying. “I _am_ nervous. Because I have to tell you something, but... I have no idea how you're going to react.”

 

“Really? That's weird, you probably know me better than anyone, except maybe Scott.”

 

“Yeah, well. It's not like I've done this before. With you or anyone. So.” Derek shrugs, and has to take a second to breathe when Stiles reaches out to put a hand on his knee in support.

 

“Hey, don't worry about it. Considering our thrilling history I have a hard time imagining anything that could be worse than what we've already been through.”

 

Derek nods and manages a tiny smile, even though his whole consciousness is zeroing in on that warm point of contact. “True. Which is why I'm even doing this.”

 

“Right. _This_ being... what?” Stiles asks gently, and maybe Derek misjudged him. Because Stiles generally doesn't do gentle. But he's grown too. Maybe Derek didn't miss his window after all.

 

“My... feelings. For you.” Derek wants to make it clearer than that, and he's searching for better words in his head, but Stiles starts smiling. A slow, hesitant smile that he can't seem to stop. Or maybe doesn't want to.

 

“Really? Like... _feelings_ , feelings?”

 

Derek has to laugh, this time with joyful relief, because Stiles is doing all the work for him, and being his usual amazing self. There was really no way Derek _couldn't_ fall for him.

 

“Yeah, Stiles. Feelings, feelings. I was trying to say it better than that, but...” He can't meet Stiles' eyes, choosing instead to watch the slender hand squeezing his knee. He traces the veins of it with his eyes, watching the muscles move with every squeeze, and wondering if he gets to hold that hand soon.

 

“And... you were nervous? About telling me?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

There's another squeeze, and then a deliberate kind of stillness, and Derek has to look up now. Stiles looks almost torn. Still smiling, but also just a little bit sad, and Derek's stomach falls.

 

“This is the first time this has happened to me.”

 

“It's okay if you don't want to do anything about it,” Derek assures quickly. “I'll be... well I'll be hurt, of course I will, but it'll pass, and I won't blame you in any way. I'll still be your friend and your alpha- I mean, if you still want that, and if you ever feel-”

 

“Oh my god, shut up!” Stiles snaps, but there's laughter in his voice, so Derek doesn't feel bad about it, just clamps his mouth shut. “First of all, I just meant that it's the first time anyone has told me they like me like this. It's... well, it's always been the other way around. Me telling other people. And usually getting turned down. And it's just weirding me out a little bit. But, Derek-” Stiles leans in closer, the hand not squeezing a knee going to Derek's cheek. “I must have been doing something wrong if you don't know how fucking ridiculously in love with you I am. Have been for years.”

 

Derek's heart is doing some worrying gymnastics in his chest, and he lets out a relieved breath. But he's still an emotional wreck, and he has to ask. “What about Lydia?”

 

“You know how when something new is kinda scary, so you try to cling to something familiar, even if it's bad?”

 

Derek nods. He knows all too well.

 

“Well. That was Lydia. She kept stomping all over my heart, but I'd been in love with her since, like, pre-school. Not being that anymore was... scary. But, like we all know, she seems to be fucking soulmates with a lizard these days,” he says with a grin, and Derek is helpless against grinning back.

  
“Okay. Good.”

 

Stiles huffs out a small laugh, but his hands are still burning where they're touching Derek, a thumb gently rubbing his cheekbone in a way that makes his stomach flip backwards onto itself. “Smartass.”

 

For a while Derek just lets himself drink it all in. Stiles' soft smile, his shining eyes and warm hands. It's like a small, private bubble of happiness, and Derek wants to _live_ in it.

 

“I really want to kiss you right now,” Stiles whispers, as if he's not sure he's allowed. “Would that be okay?”

 

Screw that old bubble, this one is a million times better. “ _So_ okay,” Derek says, trying very hard not to think about how Stiles is the first person who's ever _asked_ instead of just taking. Because if he thinks about that he might cry, and this is probably the happiest he's been since... since everything.

 

Stiles grins at him again, the relief in his face matching the one in Derek's gut, before leaning in so slowly it actually makes Derek impatient. But, god, if it doesn't also make him feel cherished as hell.

 

That first touch is so soft Derek barely dares to move, but there's no way he can't, because he's dreamed of this. Usually at times when his guard was down and he was half asleep or trying to think of things other than the bad memories. But now it's not a dream, now it's _real_. Stiles is still rubbing his cheek with a thumb, and his other hand comes up to Derek's face too as the kiss deepens, and he feels like he could _melt_ into it.

 

He sighs against Stiles, his own hands reaching without conscious thought, and before he knows it Stiles is clumsily crawling onto his lap, managing to straddle his thighs with only a minimum of awkwardness, and without separating their lips even once.

 

Derek is a _huge_ fan.

 

Time becomes an unimportant and muddled thing as his world shrinks to this new bubble of heat and love and wandering hands and lips, and he lets himself exist there for a while. There's nothing painful there, for once in his goddamn life there's nothing scaring or hurting him, and Stiles seems only too happy to be his world. _Finally_ , something is going right.

 

Much, much later, when Derek comes back to the surface, decidedly more disheveled than he was, and Stiles' bags of laundry spilling out where they were kicked onto the floor, he has to just drink in how Stiles looks. He looks _well-kissed_ , is what he does.

 

“Thanks for doing my laundry,” is what Stiles says, that beloved rude grin all over his face, and Derek fucking _loves_ this ridiculous man.

 

End.

 


End file.
